


Violet Eyes Burning Bright

by SimplyEssa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BOM Keith (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Major Characters Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Protective Lance (Voltron), Psychological Torture, Torture, Whump, and tilt your head to the left, i madness myself cry, injuries, lance pov, mmm, not a whole lot of comfort, not really - Freeform, the Klance is Strong in this one, they aren’t important tho, whump all around, y’all know me I overtag, y’all need Shipping Goggles to seen it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyEssa/pseuds/SimplyEssa
Summary: He doesn’t know who’s screaming, even if it does sound familiar. It’s just a tactic they use to try and get him to break; to give them answers. They’ve been using it for weeks, now, maybe months, he doesn’t know how long he’s been in here,  but he wants to get out soon, even if no one is coming for him, and as much as t hurts Lance to let that poor, poor person suffer (suffer much, much more than he has; All they’ve done to Lance is rough him up a little. Whenever they visit the other prisoner, the screams start up almost right away), he can’t break. Not when it could mean the lives of billions of people.





	Violet Eyes Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

> i hate myself for this

He woke up to screaming.

His head was pounding, threatening to split itself in two. The aches and cuts from earlier are still stinging, but have dulled slightly, somehing Lance is, and will be, eternally grateful for. His hands are still restrained behind his back, but they’re no longer suspended on the ceiling. He’s lying on his sore back, sore from the bruises, the cuts, he doesn’t know, as he stares at the dull, violet ceiling above him, gritting his teeth as to not yell when his head pounds harder and the screams gets louder.

He doesn’t know who’s screaming, even if it does sound familiar. It’s just a tactic they use to try and get him to break; to give them answers. They’ve been using it for weeks, now, maybe months, he doesn’t know how long he’s been in here,  but he wants to get out _soon_ , even if no one is coming for him, and as much as t hurts Lance to let that poor, poor person suffer (suffer much, much more than he has; All they’ve done to Lance is rough him up a little. Whenever they visit the other prisoner, the screams start up almost right away), he can’t break. Not when it could mean the lives of billions of people.

This prisoner, as much as it pains him to think, isn’t worth it.

So he tries as hard as he can to ignore the screaming as he screws his eyes shut, ignoring the black eye that makes it _hurt_ , and focuses on his own injuries.

He’s got a black eye, he’s had it for ages now, that makes it hard to close his eye for some reason.

His cheekbone is probably broken; the guards have backhanded him enough for that to happen.

His lip is most definitely split and bleeding, if the irony taste on his lips is any indication.

His ribs are bruised, maybe fractured, but it’s not life threatening, so it should be fine.

His gut is a collage of blacks, blues, and purples, causing pain to flutter whenever someone remotely breathes on it.

There are bruises all over his arms and legs, but they haven’t gone further.

Not yet.

He rubs his face into his bruised shoulder with a tired sigh, despite the pain it causes. It’s hard for him to sleep with these cuffs- it’s hard to sleep here at all, but worse with the cuffs on.

Even worse with the screaming.

But he needs the energy if he’s going to escape one day—

The door opening startled him from his thoughts. Haggar strolls into the room with a vicious grin on her face, two guards with stone faces behind her. They’re holding something, but he can’t see what, not with Haggar blocking his view. 

She slows to a stop in front of him, crouching down to his level so all he can see is her putrid face. He narrows his eyes into the nastiest glare he can manage.

”Hello,” she says calmly, voice slick with venom. “Am I going to get my answers today?”

He spits on her.

She manages a disgusted snarl, wipes off the spit with her robed arm. “Fine,” she sighs; straightens up. All he can see is her robe, now.

He frowns.

”Korvex,” she turns around, whipping Lance in the face with her robes. He’s too tired to do anything but wince as it grazes across his cheekbone. “You may let go of him, now.”

Him. But... he’s not holding Lance-

His eyes widen as whoever he’s holding let’s out a cry, a pale, five fingered hand coming into view beside her robes. 

When Haggar turns around, she must notice the look of surprise, of fear, of anxiety, on his face. She chuckles lightly.

”Who...” he manages to rasp, throat hoarse from disuse and dehydration. “...who...”

”Oh, this?” She asks, a tilted smirk decorating her face. “Well, since you were so adamant on ignoring his screams,” Lance holds in a gasp, fingers clenching. “We thought you should see him, instead. Maybe it would make you more willing to comply.”

She steps away.

There’s a man laying in front of him, clearly human, curled into a helpless ball as blood trails down his exposed, shredded back. His shoulders are trembling in the cold air, all of him is trembling. There’s a symbol burnt into his shoulder, something in... Altean that he can’t make out with his blurred and reddened vision. His clothed legs look mostly untouched, but the back of his thigh is bruised, red, and blistering. His ankle looks sprained, maybe broken, his pale foot bruised and bloody.

And the hair.

He’d recognize _that mullet_ anywhere, _anywhere_ , even grown inches past his shoulder and covered in grime and blood.

”You- you motherfuckers!” he manages to yell, pulling his restraints taught and trying to get to his feet. The second guard that had came in shoves him to the ground and keeps him there with a heavy boot on his bruised stomach. He grows silent as the guard presses down, throat aching and lip bleeding even more. 

Haggar inches her way over to where Keith lays, bruised and bloody and _broken_ , in tattered shreds of his Marmoran suit. He flinches as Haggar’s hand comes down on his shoulder, gripping it harshly. He cries out as she pulls him to his feet, blood dripping more freely down his back. She turns him so he’ll face Lance.

It’s even worse.

His knee looks broken, maybe, angled to the left and shaking from how he’s putting weight on it. His suit starts to rip away around his pelvis bone, leaving the red, blistered and bloody skin exposed to the air. His entire stomach is a mix of dark purple and blacks, looking stark against his pale skin. His ribs are bruised just like Lance’s, but don’t seem to be beyond that. His right shoulder looks dislocated in it’s position, arms pulled in front of him so they’re cuffed painfully tight, if the blood dripping down his wrists is any indication. His arms look mostly fine, a couple of bruises, but still useable. His chest has a symbol burnt into it, just like the back of his shoulder. This one is different.

It’s the shape of an L, with a line going through the vertical part and a little curve at the edges of the L. 

He knows it’s Altean, but he doesn’t know what it means.

His neck is bruised in the shape of hand marks, incredibly large, clawed hands.  His lip is also split, with a small cut going through the corners. His nose looks broken, maybe, a cut across his nostril to the top of his lips. There’s a bloody gash going across his forehead, not spilling blood, but still looking painful. His cheeks look sunken in, a bruise covering his left one.

And his eyes.

They pain Lance to look at.

They’ve lost their spark of flame, their hard set of determination and stubbornness. They look miserable and tired; they look defeated.

Keith.

Defeated.

If someone had told him a year ago that the mighty Keith Kogane would be defeated, he would’ve laughed, because no, no one could defeat _Keith_ -

Haggar shoves him forwards, sending him stumbling to his knees as he hisses through his teeth. 

“Cliptox,” Haggar says, a warning edge to her voice. The guard holding him down removes his foot. “Take off the runt’s cuffs.”

 _Runt_.

Lance snarls as he approaches Keith, who looks so small and fragile in comparison. Keith flinches as the guard, Cliptox, yanks his arms up to take off the cuffs, begins to tremble. He keeps his head down, long bangs covering his face.

He drops them once he’s finished, shoves the cuffs into one of his pockets. He grabs Keith’s hair and twists it painfully tight; forces his head up.

Keith is crying.

He doesn’t fight it when the guard backhands him, just lets the blood dribble from his mouth as more tears stream down.

When the guard lets go and moves away, he meets Lance’s eyes for a split second. His cheeks flush, ashamed, as he looks down and wraps his arms around himself. He hunches over and stays silent.

Lance’s heart lurches.

He wants to kill all of those fucking Galra-

“Now, now, Runt,” Haggar says like a mother nagging her children would, sharp claws dragging across Keith’s back. Keith whimpers quietly, shoulders starting to shake again. “Head up.”

With a poorly contained flinch, he lifts his head; refuses to look at Lance.

”What are you?”

”Nothing,” he whispers, fingernails digging indents into his skin.

”Louder.”

”Nothing,” he says, louder, though his voice shakes and wobbles dangerously.

“I cannot hear you,” she hisses, fingers coming around the back of his neck and digging into the soft flesh. He gasps painfully, eyes fluttering shut. “ _Louder_.”

”Nothing!” He yells out, voice tittering on a sob. “I’m nothing, and I- I’ll never be anything!”

”Good,” she lets go of his neck, allowing him to hunch over and sob quietly. 

“I’ll kill you,” he mutters voice hoarse, as he shifts into a sitting position. “I’ll kill all of you!”

Haggar grins.

”Uncuff him.”

She leaves the room without a second look, and takes one of the guards with her. The other guard stays behind and uncuffs him, shoves the cuffs into his pocket and leaves. 

The door shuts with a click.

Lance doesn’t know what to do.

Keith is still there, kneeling and crying quietly, bloody and bruised.

He doesn’t know if he should comfort Keith, hug him, maybe, or if that would make it worse.

He ends up not caring.

He crawls forwards slowly, careful not to jostle any of his worse injuries. When he reaches Keith (Keith still hasn’t noticed him, how long has he been here, how did he get here, what did they _do_ ), he slowly wraps his arms around Keith. Keith flinches, sniffling as his muscles tense.

”Keith,” he says quietly, softly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Violet orbs peer up at him through messy bangs, filled with tears and a need for comfort, even if Keith doesn’t realize.

”Can I... can I hug you?” He asks, hands hovering near Keith’s bruised, painful looking sides.

He hears Keith’s breath hitch, as if he’d been expecting something else, something _mean_. His nod is so tiny, if Lance hadn’t’ve been paying attention, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

He manages to get his hands gently touching Keith’s lower back and neck when Keith grunts softly. He immediately removes them, allowing them to hover near.

”Just... just don’t...” Keith swallows, a wince overtaking his face before his abused voice speaks up again. “...whip...”

”I won’t touch them,” Lance says kindly, though his mind is reeling with anger. They _whipped_ him? _They whipped him_? “I won’t hurt you.”

A tiny nod.

He pulls Keith flush against his body as he hugs him, heart cracking when Keith’s shoulders start to shake. His skin feels like ice from where his exposed skin is touching Keith’s. 

Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, small, quiet, hiccuping sobs escaping his throat. Lance’s shoulder slowly starts to grow wet, not that Lance minds, as Keith slowly winds his arms around Lance’s waist.

He rocks them back and forth gently, humming what he hopes is a soothing tune. Keith’s cries begin to grow quieter and quieter, until they cease to exist, and Keith is starting to become deadweight on his lap.

”I’m sorry,” Lance whispers. “It’s my fault they did this-“

”’s not,” Keith mumbles against his neck, breath hot against his chilled skin. Chilled skin no where near Keith’s level of  cold. “...got here months... before you did. ‘did the same... stuff...”

He feels Keith relax against him.

Lance screws his eyes shut and refs his head against Keith’s hair.

His eyes fling open when he remembers the symbols, remembers the words Haggar had made Keith say.

The shoulder mark.

Useless.

The center mark.

The L.

Nothing.

”You’re not nothing,” he whispers against his greasy hair. Keith tenses. “You’re not useless. You’re everything, Keith. Without you, we wouldn’t have found Shiro. Without you, we wouldn’t have found Red. Without you, we wouldn’t have had a Red Paladin-“

”...you...Red...”

”Trust me,” Lance laughs shortly, cheat and heart aching. He can feel her in the back of his head, a wave of furious anger at their captives for both Keith and Lance. “She still wants you. Never stopped wanting you.”

Keith says nothing.

A wave of protectiveness.

”We wouldn’t have Voltron. We wouldn’t have made a great new friend, a new family member.”

Keith’s breathing hitches.

”Hey,” Lance nudges Keith’s head with his shoulder gently, trying to force Keith into looking at him.

The violet eyes that once contained a roaring blaze of fire are now empty, devoid of life, defeated.

It hurts to see what they’ve made of him.

”We love you, y’know that, right?” Keith looks down, eyes full of tears. “We do. All of us.”

”Okay,” he says breathlessly, pulling his arms away from Lance and trapping them between his chest.

They’re colder than the rest of him.

He pulls Keith closer and leans against the wall, burying his nose into Keith’s hair.

”I love you too,” Lance says, cheeks burning. “I never disliked you.”

”...me too,” Keith whispers.

”I’ll never let anyone hurt you again,” it’s an empty promise, he knows that, but he needs to give Keith hope; Keith needs this.

Keith sleepily blinks up at him, a lone ember starting to burn in the desolate terrain of purple eyes. “Prom’se?”

”I promise.”

Keith falls asleep.

* * *

 

 

Lance decides this prisoner is worth it.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hhh,,  
> i really just wanted a one shot of something like this and don’t worry i’m sobbing too djdndjd s  
> feedback is greatly appreciated (kudos ,, are too,, but you don’t,, have too,,,)  
> aaaa  
> thank for reading,


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